


Vol. II - I Can Dream About You

by RishiDiams



Series: Love Songs [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3181262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RishiDiams/pseuds/RishiDiams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"normal speech"<br/><i>*telepathy*</i></p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I can dream about you  
if I can't hold you tonight  
\- "I can dream about you," Dan Hartman 

In her room aboard the TARDIS, Rose Tyler dreamt. 

_The subject was a familiar one to her and very dear. It started off the same way that many of their adventures ended, the Doctor's hand in hers and the urgent command to run. Then they would collapse in relief and hysterical laughter when they made it back to the TARDIS, occasionally singed, but alive. But, this time, her dream took an unexpected turn._

_This time, as they laughed, the Doctor bent over double, his hands on his knees, Rose sitting on the deck of the control room where she'd collapsed, their eyes met and something new passed between them, something wondrous. Maybe it was solely the rush of being alive they felt and maybe it was something more, something that had been building since the very first time he had taken her hand, grinned at her from beneath crystal blue eyes, and gave the order to run. They had done a lot of running since then. It seemed at times that they did little else even though his eyes were brown now._

_And now they were safe, the adrenaline pumping through their systems as the barriers that they had mentally erected between them suddenly stopped mattering. They came together, the space between them dissolving amid hesitant touches and silent requests for permission. She did not question the rightness of it, she simply surrendered when his lips met hers, accepted the gentle but firm pressure of his hand on her shoulder as he guided her to lay flat on the floor then partly covered her body with his own._

And then a moan escaped Rose Tyler which startled her awake. 

Her room was dark, a deep pervasive darkness that can only come from the depths of space. She didn't need the light, however, as the room was truly her own. She knew how many steps from the door to her bed, had walked that path healthy, sick, and exhausted to the point of collapse. She also knew that three steps to the right of her bed was a pile of clean laundry she had never gotten the opportunity to put away properly. The life she had chosen offered, of all things, no time for common domestic chores. 

In the darkness there was only sound, the ever-present hum of the TARDIS herself. But that wasn't the only sound. Just outside the door to her room there was another, that of a shoe hitting the deck plating. Rose waited to hear another footfall as the Doctor moved away from her door, but as the silent moments stretched out, she realized that he was waiting for something. 

Dragging herself from the bed, still groggy from being woken in the middle of a dream that had faded immediately, Rose opened the door. The light from the corridor assaulted her eyes and she threw a hand up to shield them. 

"Oh," he exclaimed. "Rose. Did I wake you? I was just passing by and I thought - well, that is to say, I --" 

"Doctor, you're rambling." Her eyes had finally adjusted to the light and she looked down at herself. Hastily, she grabbed a robe from behind the door and put it on, covering the lacy knickers and midriff baring t-shirt she wore. She looked up and met his eyes, certain for a second that she saw something different in them before his expression turned bland again. 

"Oh, yes, I guess I was. Umm, no worries. I'm sorry I woke you." He turned on his heel and headed back the way of the control room. 

"Daft git," Rose muttered as she turned back to her room. 

Hours later when she joined him in the control room it was as though the conversation had never taken place. "So, where are we off to today?" he asked. 

"I dunno, what's nice this century?" 

"Ah, well, that depends on your definition of "nice." Are you looking for a little adventure, perhaps? Or a quite vacation? Secret dark rites?" 

"Every time we try to have a quiet vacation, we end up having an adventure. So, this time let's try aiming for an adventure and see where that takes us." 

"You're trying to buck the system," he said with mock seriousness, "karma pays attention to people who do that." 

He was right, she realized hours later as they ran back to the TARDIS hand-in-hand, the stereotypical mob only a few steps behind them. Karma paid attention to people who tried to bend the rules. But it had been an amazing adventure. 

They burst through the door of the TARDIS and stood on the other side of it, their backs pressed against the door as the noise from the mob faded into the distance. Their eyes met, already brimming with laughter, and the shared acknowledgment of it was enough to bring it out full force. 

It was then that the memory of her dream struck Rose as strongly as deja vu, the laughter drying up as quickly as it had begun. She looked at him, at the scant inches that separated them, and remembered the taste of him and the feeling of his body pressed tightly against hers. But it was information that had been supplied by her own mind, she knew, and probably not what it would really feel like. Her eyes slid down to his lips. Or what he would taste like. Worrying her lip with her teeth, Rose watched him as he realized that he was the only one still laughing. 

He turned, the last laugh dying on his lips when he looked at her. Pushing off from the door he shoved his hands into his pockets and climbed the ramp to the controls. 

"Doctor --" 

"How about Earth next? A little 21st century, perhaps? We could pop in and see your mum!" 

She barked a laugh, "My mum? Are you feeling alright, Doctor? Did one of those darts manage to hit you?" 

"What? No! I'm fine." He put up with her scanning him for darts with good humor. "See?" he said when she'd finished. 

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure." 

"So, where are we off to now?" 

"I'm off to bed. It's getting late." 

"Late? You humans sleep most of your life away." 

"Well, excuse me for having inferior biology." 

He laughingly shooed her out of the control room but, as Rose approached her bedroom, she began to wonder if she'd just been masterfully deflected. Shaking herself as she changed for bed, she decided she was being silly. It had only been a dream, after all. 

_They'd run again today._

_The slam of the TARDIS door echoed around the control room, effectively cutting off a sound she had not heard in the dream but would have recognized if she had, the sound of the mob behind them. The scent of the planet they had just left, a heavily floral smell, had followed them into the TARDIS._

_She could see every laugh line on his face as they gasped for breath in between the laughter. They spoke no words, just stayed where they had stopped until finally the moment came when a glance spoke volumes and changed everything between them forever._

_This time, when their gazes met and caught, Rose could see straight through his eyes to the depths of his soul, to the doubt hidden behind the longing. He was afraid to take, terrified that he would overstep where he was not welcome. She accepted him just the same, perhaps even more readily, when he took a single step towards her and then fell to his knees at her side, his hand already outstretched to caress her cheek._

_Hesitantly, as though he was uncertain how to continue, his hand landed on her cheek, his questioning eyes silently asking for permission as they fell to her lips. A tiny nod, almost imperceptible, granted it and he closed the distance between them. She recognized the taste of him, the sweetness of Torma fruit with a hint of a heady red wine she'd not been bold enough to try._

_And then his hand was at her shoulder, and the next thing she knew she was lying on the deck of the control room. Then he followed her down, his lean, angular body such a stark contrast to her curves as he covered her. Rose moaned as she accepted the weight of him atop her and drew him even closer by twining her arms around his neck. He moaned, too, when he moved his hand down her side, allowing himself the pleasure of touching every inch of her._

_Her leg came up to where her knee was even with his hip, her foot behind him, silently inviting him to take more and cursing the jeans she wore for not being something short, provocative, and able to grant easy access. Nevertheless, his hand continued over her hip and then down the thigh that encircled him. His grip tightened as it neared the knee she had slid up to his hip and he used the leverage to press himself against her._

Rose jolted awake.


	2. Chapter 2

Rose sat in her bed aboard the TARDIS, breathing heavily as she tried to put her dreams behind her. It had been weeks now of the same, the dream itself becoming a comfortable lover, a welcome, if frustrating, friend. She ached for the recurrence to end nearly as much as she ached to stay asleep long enough for the dream to play out completely. 

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't mention it to him. So she went about her days as normal, wondering if he would ever look at her in real life the way he did in her dreams. She loved the banter, the sweet flirtations, the adventure, all of it, but when his eyes twinkled and his smile threatened to encompass his entire face, she had to forcibly remind herself that anything more was only in her dreams. 

Dragging herself from bed, she dressed and headed to the control room. Her first glimpse of him every "morning after" always managed to steal her breath away and today was no different. He was wearing far too many clothes for her taste, a t-shirt, two button-downs, his suit, and she could see his trench coat lying nearby. Today it was music, drawing them to 1979, but somehow the Doctor's piloting never managed to land them where and when he planned, so they ended up in Scotland in 1879 with Queen Victoria, a werewolf, a diamond, and an awful lot of running. 

By the time they returned to the TARDIS it was early evening and, truth be told, she was knackered. Ten quid richer, a Dame, banished from Britain for all time, but just generally knackered. With little argument from the Doctor, she said good night and went to her room. 

The dream came almost immediately and she welcomed it. 

_The crowd that chased them chanted a thirst for blood, but they seemed so far behind and the TARDIS was already within sight, nearly within their grasp. They burst through the door almost simultaneously, the Doctor allowing her in an instant ahead of him. Rose fell to the deck of the control room, already gasping for breath as first her elbow and then her shoulder came down on the cold metal. Though the door had only been open for the briefest of moments, somehow the earthy smell of newly turned dirt layered with the higher, complex mixture of the thirteen official Royal flowers had wafted in with them. The scent curled around them briefly before dissipating._

_Only three feet from where she lay, close enough that even hunched over with his hands resting on his knees, the Doctor towered over her. His respiratory bypass had kicked in long before they reached the TARDIS and so he was the first to bark a self-depreciating laugh. The effect on her was instantaneous and she found herself in a fit of giggles. The relief was palpable, the laughter bordering on hysterical. They had survived. Again. It had been an amazing trip, right up until the moment it had all gone wrong and then it had been an amazing run._

_The Doctor's head came up and their eyes met, her name slipping softly from his lips, as acknowledgment of their shared longing passed between them, wondrous and powerful, changing everything. The endless barriers they had mentally erected between them, an eternity of polite distances and deliberately casual conversation suddenly no longer mattered. So that now, behind this raw untested emotion, Rose also saw a deeper truth, the fear and doubt that plagued him. He was afraid to take, terrified that his advances would be unwelcome, too forceful, a powerful entity taking advantage. She offered him what silent reassurances she could, certain to her core that to speak now would be to break the spell. He would never accept her words and it was already too late to put things back the way they had been only seconds earlier._

_He must have recognized her attempt to soothe his anxiety and took it as she intended it, a promise that if he was ready she would accept him without any need for later recriminations or guilt. Imperceptibly, he moved first, the space between them dissolving as she sat up just as he fell to his knees by her side, his hand already outstretched to caress her face. "Rose," he said again, the slight hesitation before he touched her only obvious to her because they were so close. She moved into his cupped hand, the heat from his skin almost scalding her. She had held his hand before, usually when they were running for their lives, and had marveled at the coolness of his skin, a result of a body temperature several degrees lower than her own, but not today, not in this moment._

_The question was written clearly in his eyes and, with a tiny nod, she granted his unspoken request. He had lived so many lives, done so many things, been either the hero or destroyer of more civilizations than she could possibly fathom. And yet, here he was, literally brought to his knees by a human shop girl who was barely out of her teens, waiting for her permission, tacit or explicit, to proceed with every single step of lovemaking. He whispered words against her lips that made no sense, "You need to wake up." But then he was kissing her and she could taste the sweetness of the Torma fruit they'd shared over an elaborate dinner and the heady red wine he'd offered her but she'd not been bold enough to try._

_And then his hand was at her shoulder, offering gentle but firm pressure and she yielded to him, bending like an Earth willow tree as he guided her down to the deck. The Doctor - her Doctor - followed her down, his lean, angular body such a stark contrast to her curves as he covered her. Rose moaned as she accepted the weight of him atop her and drew him even closer by twining her arms around his neck. The dream was so real that even in her sleep, Rose's hand came up to touch a lover who was not there. "Rassilon, Rose," he moaned, "you have to wake up." The sound of his voice was primal, possessive and it stirred something inside of her._

_His hand left her face to graze down her side, touching every inch of her for the first time as a lover. Rose squirmed against him, her leg coming up rest at his hip, her calf and foot behind him, silently inviting him to take more. His hand continued over her hip and then down the thigh that encircled him and she cursed the jeans she wore for not being something short, provocative, and able to grant him easy access. His grip tightened as it neared her knee and he used the leverage to press himself against her._

_Another curse escaped him, this one in a language she did not recognize and the TARDIS made no effort to translate. He came fully into the cradle of her hips, grinding his hardness against her as he rested his weight on his elbows on the deck beside her head. "I can't stop this," he murmured into her ear, his teeth nipping gently at the sensitive skin of her neck. "It has to be you." She groaned and writhed beneath him, her hands moving to his back where she could feel his muscles moving beneath the clothes he wore._

_He lifted himself back up to a kneeling position, his fingers drawn to the button of her jeans, but first he slid a hand up the shirt she wore, landing hotly on her stomach. "Wake up!"_

Rose shot straight to waking, sitting up fully in her bed, the echo of the Doctor's words ringing about the room. She was alone in the familiar darkness of her room. But somehow, not entirely alone. 

Scrambling from the bed, she tore through the ever-present pile of laundry and dressed herself in the dark, arriving at the control room only minutes after waking. The Doctor stood at the controls, his hair more mussed than usual and his clothes looked like she had not been the only one to dress hurriedly in the dark. "You were in my dream," she accused as she climbed the ramp to stand near to him. "What's that all about?" 

"Shared dreaming. It is easily corrected, a slight change to our sleep schedule will do the trick." 

"Shared dreaming?" 

"Yes. It's mostly the TARDIS' doing, combined with some residual telepathy on your part and a lot of telepathy on my part. I don't need nearly the same quantity of sleep that you do, so I will just alternate sleeping with you - I mean, I'll alternate my sleep schedule with yours. I didn't mean to suggest that we - not that I," he gestured with his hands abstractly, but in such a way that she had no doubt what he was indicating, "-- that you and I --" 

"You had me convinced up until that point, but you're rambling again. How long has this been going on, then?" 

His shoulder slumped ever so slightly. "Since the beginning," he admitted. "I was able to break out of it the first time, but the link has gotten stronger each subsequent time." 

She saw it now, the strain her dreams had placed on him. There were lines on his face that were new and he did not seem as in control as he usually was, not to mention his disheveled state. She wondered if he had been sleeping at all since her dreams first began, or, rather, if he was sleeping when he wasn't in her dreams with her. 

"Does this happen often, then, with your companions, I mean?" 

"It's only happened once before, a long time ago, but I don't remember it having this potent an effect on me. And she... well, let's just say she left shortly after it began. As I said, it's easily corrected, won't happen again." 

His eyes met hers for the first time and she realized that he was embarrassed. The righteous indignation that had hurried her out of her bedroom to confront him returned and pounced at this sign of weakness. "You don't think you could have mentioned this before now? S'my dreams, that stuff's private, you know." She smacked him playfully on the arm to show that she was, at least in a small way, kidding. 

He responded with such reverence that it surprised her, "It's so beautiful, Rose. Absolutely stunning. I'm honored, really. It's far more than I deserve." 

She flushed hotly, "S'nothing, really." 

An awkward silence passed between them. Rose rolled on the balls of her feet and raised her hand to point over her shoulder, her lips just beginning to form the words to suggest that she return to her room when he spoke, his voice so quiet at first that she had to strain to hear him. "It's not like that, you know. Not really. Humans and Time Lords, we're... compatible, but it's different than it would be if two humans --" He stopped suddenly, clamping his lips together, his eyelids fluttering closed. Another silent moment passed, the only sound that of him breathing deeply, before he opened his eyes and looked at her again. 

She was studying him raptly, stunned by the possibilities created by such an uncharacteristic admission. The subject of Time Lord reproduction was taboo, completely and specifically off limits. Little by little, perhaps slowly even for a "stupid ape," she put together the pieces of what he had said with what he hadn't. 

"You mean," she said, her tongue pushing against the backs of her teeth, "if we wanted - and I'm not saying that I do, mind you, dreams or no dreams - I don't care what that bloke said, you know the one, the shrink with the cigar?" 

"Sigmund Freud," he supplied automatically. "He believed that dreams were a manifestation of the subject's --" 

"Subconscious or something?" 

"-- deepest desires, but yes." 

"Right. That. So, yeah, I mean, you know, strictly speaking, if we wanted to, we could," she gestured in much the same way he had and was absolutely floored to see a faint blush rising up from his collar. Oh My God, she thought, they could. And worse, she added, noting the way he tried so hard to avoid meeting her gaze, he wanted to, well, too. "It's not like that, you said. Then what's it like?" The words were out before she could stop them, but by then he was struggling to formulate an answer that would, most likely, defuse the situation or change the subject completely, and she wouldn't have taken them back if she could. The expression on his face was priceless. 

"Hold on," she said, the final piece of the puzzle clicking into place, "If, like Freud said, dreams are a manifestation of the subject's deepest desires and you were in my dreams..." His expression was slowly changing to one of horror as she speculated out loud. "I think that maybe the TARDIS didn't have to do all that much work to put you there." 

He opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off, "Maybe the old girl didn't have to try hard at all, just a little bit of --" 

Finally he got his tongue untangled enough to mount some resistance, "The man in your dream is not me. I can never be that for you," he said, each word terse with the effort it had cost him to say them. 

"I don't believe that." Her accent asserted itself, full-force, and the last T disappeared completely in a breathy huff. 

"Gallifreyans don't mate for fun, recreation. It's not as... pleasurable. For either party. Time Lords don't come together physically at all." 

"But the dreams, 'shared dreaming' that's what it means, yeah? We share the dream, the touches, the... pleasure." 

"Rose, I don't have a baseline for human sex hardwired in me. I wouldn't even know where to begin." 

"You're a virgin?" 

"Well, technically, in the human sense, yes. But that's not what I meant. I meant in terms of, well, pleasure." 

She sighed in frustration. "We can't keep tip-toeing around that word, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. Say it." With her hands on her hips and her eyes boring into him, she dared him not to. 

Dutifully, he repeated it, "Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure." 

"All right? It's just a word." 

"It's more than just a word, Rose, it's an ideal, a shared experience that brings two people - two humans - closer together. We can't have that." 

"That's rubbish, that is. There are ways. Even when you're by yourself there's ways. And we have more than that, we have each other, we have the shared dreams." 

"But I don't have a baseline for human pleasure." 

"You keep saying that. So what? I do. And you have a baseline for Time Lord pleasure. It may not be sexual, but it's still pleasure. You know when something feels good, right?" 

Reluctantly, he agreed. 

"Can't you use that? In the dream?" 

"I could, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't work." 

"I think you're afraid to try." 

"I am not afraid to try." 

"Then what are you so afraid of?" 

"There are... physical differences." 

"'course there are. You wouldn't be an alien if there wasn't." She waved her hand vaguely at him, but then thought better of going down that particular path at this exact moment. "S'to be expected, yeah?" 

"It's not just that. I don't have erogenous zones like human males. You'll touch me and nothing will happen. Eventually you'll get tired of having a partner who can't feel anything." 

"You feel. I know you do. I've seen you. You feel more deeply than anyone I've ever known. So it can't be that. What is it, then? Are you only allowed to feel bad things?" 

"Rose, you don't --" 

"Don't tell me that I don't understand, Mr. High and Mighty. You carry the burdens of hundreds, maybe thousands of species, but you don't allow yourself any joy, any pleasure. You --" 

"I'm afraid to lose you," he blurted, silencing her. "I am afraid, Rose Tyler, that one morning you'll wake up and realize that you can do better than a man who's not really a man at all. I live every day in fear of a politely phrased request to be returned to Earth, to your own time. And, feeling - yes, feeling, Miss Tyler - as deeply as I do, I cannot imagine what that request would do to me. This bond, the shared dreaming, has only happened once before in over 900 years and she ran away. The very next time we touched down on Earth she refused to come back with me. She didn't even care that it was 200 years before her time." 

For several minutes, she just stared at him, the outburst so unlike him that it took her that long to assimilate everything he had said. Closing the distance between them, she brought her hand up to brush the ends of his hair, "I said forever, yeah? Well, I meant it." 

"You can't possibly --" 

"Shut up, you. Are you telling me I don't know my own mind? For ever." 

Slowly, his long, lean hand came up and covered hers, dragging it down his cheek until he turned his face slightly and placed a kiss on her palm. His eyes were closed and the expression on his face, if one accepted that he could feel something besides the sorrowful burdens of others, could only be described as rapturous. 

"You've been fighting the dreams, right? That's why it's been so difficult for you. What would happen if you stopped fighting?" 

"Rose Marion Tyler, are you inviting me to your bed?" 

"Well, into my dreams, yeah. You made it sound like, well, like you wouldn't want to..." 

He nipped the heel of her hand with his teeth and then suddenly there it was, the look in his eyes from her dreams. So, at least some of him had participated. The thought curled her toes. 

"You don't know what you're asking of me." 

Her senses were still so tightly focused on the pressure of his hand on hers and the fading sting of his bite, but she made an intuitive leap, "You don't want to take advantage, yeah?" 

"No, you've more than allayed that fear. I told you, Time Lords don't come together physically. Procreation is done by TNA extraction via a Loom. But we do form a telepathic bond, much the same as the shared dreams. Of course, I can see such a bond with you being used quite frequently." He chuckled and drew her closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. 

"Ummm, Doctor?" 

His hand rested on her cheek briefly before sliding underneath her hair to cup the back of her head, "Yes, Rose?" 

"Why are we still talking?" 

"Because," he said as he leaned closer to her, his mouth only inches from hers, "you've just asked me to marry you." His lips closed on hers and she recognized the taste of him from the dream, but by then her awareness was already fading. 

When Rose opened her eyes again she stood in a vast field. Every inch of the ground was blanketed with rose petals several inches deep. She had appeared barefoot and the silkiness of the petals on her feet was incredibly erotic. She took a step and then another before spinning in place once and then twice. As she crushed the petals with her feet they released their rich, potent scent into the air. When she stopped spinning, she heard his voice behind her. "I hope you like it." 

She whirled around to face him and was instantly aware of the shy grin, the hesitant request for acceptance in his eyes. His hands were buried deep in his pockets and he rocked slightly on his heels, but he watched her intently for any sign of disapproval. 

"For me?" 

"Oh, well, you know --" 

"Doctor," she chided. 

"No," he replied, suddenly very serious. "This is my place." 

She spun herself around again, this time very slowly so that she could take it all in. His place. Miles and miles of flat land as far as she could see. Nothing but millions - billions! - of rose petals. His place. Roses. Nothing but roses. "S'beautiful." she said as she stopped turning. "Stunning." She took a few steps closer to him, being extremely careful how she modulated her voice to make sure that he knew she wasn't mocking him by using his own words to describe how deeply this place affected her. "Far more than I deserve." Rose stopped a few feet from him and stretched her hand out, "It only needs one thing," she added as he cautiously placed his hand in hers. "Run." 

A beatific smile broke across his face and then they were running, the smell of roses following them every step of the way, the Doctor's hand holding hers tightly.


	3. Chapter 3

They ran until she could no longer keep up with him, though, in this place it seemed that she was able to run farther than ever before. Finally, she collapsed into the bed of petals, the Doctor following her down to the ground, covering her body partly with his, exactly like he had in her dream with one exception: there was no hesitation in his actions.   
  
And then he kissed her, his hand snaking down her side as he claimed her lips. "Rose," he said moments later as he lessened the intensity of the kiss, "can I borrow your memories?"   
  
She did not speak, but thanks to the dreaming state he heard her response as clearly as his own thoughts, and as he kissed her again his fingers touched her gently at the temple. And then, suddenly, there it was, before she'd even realized it was missing, as he pressed himself against her and groaned appreciatively.   
  
"You're overdressed," she said, already sliding his suit jacket over his shoulders. "So many layers." And then there weren't, and her hands were left holding air a few inches above his back.   
  
He was bathed in her surprise. "It's a dream," he reminded her, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down her throat. "A wonderful, beautiful dream where whatever you want can happen and where you don't have to wake up before it gets good."   
  
Her hands dropped back to his shoulders to touch the thin cloth of his t-shirt, feeling it slide over his muscles. He felt her tiny thrill of pleasure and heard her silently musing that he'd left her just enough clothes to take off of him.   
  
His hand slid under her shirt and landed on her side and Rose cried out at the temperature difference between them. "Sorry," he muttered and he warmed his body up to match hers. When they were within a few degrees of each other, he pushed her shirt up and met her eyes before tugging it over her head.   
  
She squirmed against him and he placed tiny kisses along the line of her ribs, trailing down to the clasp of her jeans. He nipped at her tummy then unsnapped the jeans and stripped them off of her as well. "Oh, Rose," he breathed as he looked down at her body. "You're so lovely." He cupped her sex through the knickers she wore and reveled in the heat of her, in the wetness that had already soaked through the thin cotton.   
  
Her hands were frantic against him as he rubbed her clit in large circles meant to build her fire slowly. The smell of her arousal was thick around them and he realized in a rush that there was no way he was ever going to be able to do everything he wanted with her, experience her every way he wanted to. There may never be enough time in the universe to spend naked and entangled with Rose Tyler, and this from a practically immortal man who piloted a time machine.   
  
He'd been still too long and Rose was tearing at his t-shirt, trying desperately to take it off of him. He shifted to give her better leverage and she pulled the shirt over his head, helping him sit up slightly as he took his arms out and threw the shirt to the side. Her hands ran through the hair on his chest then slid down his stomach where she fingered the clasp of his trousers meaningfully.  _Yes._    
  
He shot forward as she cupped him through the trousers.  _Oh, yes_. It should have been impossible, but for just a moment, a sense of true lust enveloped him, overshadowing the memories and emotions he had borrowed from Rose. The feelings up until that moment had been okay, pleasant even, but were a far cry from what he would experience with a partner who could meet him on his level. However, in that moment, somehow Rose had, and it left him breathless.   
  
He ripped off the trousers and pants as though the material was burning him, and returned quickly to his position between her legs. She looked at him and then looked down at his erection standing proudly between them. "I thought you said there were physical differences?"   
  
"In here we can be perfectly physically compatible."   
  
Rose licked her lips, unaware of how closely he was monitoring her reaction to him until his cock jumped and pulsed in time with her actions.   
  
"How do we..."   
  
He looked into her bright hazel eyes.   
  
She flushed bright red with embarrassment. "Compatible. Right. Silly question."   
  
He grasped the top of her knickers and guided them off of her. No, there was not enough time, he thought as her bum came up and he caught his first glimpse of Rose's slick opening. The moment of lust he'd experienced had kicked his biological imperative into high gear. So, despite the fact that he wanted to take his time with her  _and_  the fact that there could be no genetic transfer while they were solely inside the dreaming state, he needed to join with her.  _Now_.   
  
He lowered his body, his lips already seeking out hers and Rose's legs came up naturally to cradle his hips. He'd never really noticed their height difference before that moment, when the tip of his cock pressed slightly into her before he'd managed to curl himself down to kiss her.   
  
"Oh," she moaned, and he couldn't stop himself from pushing just a little bit farther in. Sliding into her was delicious. She was so hot that even with the adjustments he'd made to his body temperature, it still felt like she was scalding him.   
  
Rose shifted slightly beneath him, her hands gripping his shoulders as she accepted his intrusion into her body. He pushed again in one steady, continuous motion until he was buried inside of her completely. He knew he should wait, let her adjust to him, but instead he thrust languidly, barely pulling out of her at all, just enough to renew the fullness of their contact.   
  
She was making a tiny mewling noise in the back of her throat and he decided that he liked that noise and wanted to hear more of it. He still hadn't gotten that kiss, so he took it now as he repeated the languid thrust a second and then a third time.   
  
" _Doctor_ ," she whined, bringing her hands to his waist where she tried ineffectually to spur him faster.   
  
"I quite like the sound of that," he replied impertinently as he repeated the motion yet again. "Say it again."   
  
He'd left her breasts covered and untouched, had done it deliberately because he knew that his overly sensitive and curious tongue might never have let him move forward if he'd started there. Now, however, he placed a kiss on the top of her breast and used his teeth to pull down the cup of her bra, accidentally brushing Rose's taut nipple with his lip. The gasp she let loose was punctuated by her whole body tensing, especially the part of her that surrounded him, and the Doctor immediately decided that gasp was his new favorite sound.   
  
He curled his tongue around her nipple and she bucked hard against him. "Doc _tor_."   
  
"Oh, yes. Just like that." He pulled out of her almost completely before returning, repeating the motion over and over as he slowly increased the pace.   
  
"Wait!" she said suddenly, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder. "What about, you know, protection?"   
  
He stopped thrusting, but didn't even raise his head, just continued to lap at her nipple. "You mean contraception? Birth control?"   
  
"Yes, you silly git, birth control."   
  
He shook his head, brushing his lips side-to-side over the nipple. "It won't be an issue here."   
  
"Maybe not in the dream, but what about out there? What about what our bodies are doing?"   
  
Finally, he stopped what he was doing and regarded her curiously for a minute before responding. "That won't be an issue either."   
  
Her hand fell from his shoulder, and he lowered his head to her other breast, lapping at it through the material before pulling back the cup, as he again picked up the rhythm he'd established with his hips. In no time she was gasping his name over and over.   
  
"Ooh, we're not on the floor of the control room, are we? I mean, don't you dare stop, but that has to be uncomfortable."   
  
He laughed, "No, we're in your room. That's why you arrived here before me, I moved you."   
  
He kissed her, as much to silence whatever questions she might think of next as to increase their contact. As it was, his mind was searching for her, looking for a bond that didn't exist between them. He needed that connection on more than just a sexual level and he had gone without it for far too long. The dream was a salve, at least, and more than he could have ever hoped for after Gallifrey's destruction.   
  
Her cries took on a distinctly urgent tone and he debated for a moment slowing his strokes to delay her impending climax. No, he thought instead and, the decision made, he focused on her entirely until she shattered beneath him. Her mind reached out at the height of her orgasm to touch his and his rhythm failed him entirely as another jolt of true lust assaulted him.   
  
His thrusts became maddened, shooting Rose back up to the heights of pleasure where she screamed his name as she immediately climaxed a second time. As she pulsed around him, he allowed himself to let go with her, his hips shuddering as he emptied himself into her. It was more than the dreaming state, and less than what he imagined intercourse with a bonded partner would be, but just for a moment, it calmed him.   
  
Later he would examine the implications of Rose being able to touch his mind like that, but for now, he simply collapsed in her arms, resting his head on her shoulder as he breathed in the heady blend of their sex and the rose petals that had been crushed beneath them. Somehow, his respiratory bypass had failed to kick in and his breathing was labored, though it could be part of the memories he had received from Rose as was, he was sure, the fact that he was covered in a sheen of sweat.   
  
Rose didn't seem to mind the sweat as she pulled him even closer to her, inviting him to rest his weight on her fully while placing full open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck. "No," he murmured as he rolled to his back instead, pulling her along with him onto a cooler patch of rose petals.   
  
She moved without complaint, settling easily into the crook of his arm with a contented sigh. He was already hard again, the unexpected biological imperative not yet satisfied, but he had to give her a few minutes to rest. Rassilon, what had happened to him? Technically, what he had just experienced with Rose was impossible, although, if one were to be strict, the fact that they were together in this dreaming state should also have been an impossibility.   
  
He brought his hand down to stroke himself, hoping to relieve some of the pressure that was building. Rose must have seen the motion because her hand closed around him before his own could and she released a pleased moan. The next thing he knew she was sitting up, her leg already swinging over to straddle him. "Rose, wait," he said, his hands landing on her hips to stay her movement. "You don't have to - if you're not ready..."   
  
"I'm not that fragile, Doctor," she purred, her hand already reaching between them to guide him to her entrance. And then he was inside of her again, the heat of her nearly scorching him before he realized that he'd let his body temperature regulate itself again. Rose didn't seem to mind, taking the difference in stride as she sat down fully on his hips. She settled herself for a second then started to move.   
  
He let her control the tempo for a while, but took over when he felt her muscles start to flutter tellingly. He held her steady by placing his hands on her hips as he thrust up into her, pushing her over the precipice of another orgasm. This time, he was waiting for the whip crack of her fledgling telepathy and he cried out as it washed over him and through him, triggering his own release.   
  
Rose collapsed onto him as his last few thrusts drained away the urgency of the biological imperative. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him, and placed a kiss in her hair. His pink and yellow human. She'd given him a gift. He'd never wanted to say the words to her more than in that moment, but he didn't try, just hoped that she understood.   
  
She dozed lightly right there on his chest for an hour and when she woke he made love to her one more time before bringing them both out of the dreaming state. Rose dropped immediately into a deep sleep and he spent a few minutes getting comfortable before following her.


	4. Chapter 4

Rose came up to consciousness slowly, but became almost immediately aware of the arms that surrounded her, of the man who shared her bed. He was sitting up, his shoulders resting against the headboard and she was tucked securely into the crook of his arm, her head resting high on his bare stomach. Beneath the sheets, he wore nothing but a pair of pants. As she stirred, his hand softly drew a nonsensical pattern on her arm. She breathed him in, taking the opportunity to simply delight in the fact that they had finally arrived at this moment. 

His chest vibrated against her as he spoke, "Good morning." 

"Morning," she agreed and tried to sit up, but his arms tightened against her. 

"Just stay," he said, shushing her softly. 

"What's that? There's no galactic emergency we need to rush off to prevent?"

"We have all the time in the universe, Rose Tyler, and there's nowhere else I would rather be in this moment." 

Rose settled down as best she could, but a few minutes later she strained against his arms again. This time he released her immediately, scrambling to put distance between them, "I'm sorry. You like to cuddle, but I've made it awkward, haven't I? You don't like needy men." 

"What? How do you even know that? No, wait, don't answer that. I just have to..." she gestured to the en suite door. "I'll be right back." 

He nodded but watched her warily as she walked to the en suite and closed the door behind her. When she came back into the room a few minutes later, he was sitting on the edge of her bed and had pulled on his trousers and dress shirt. The shirt was fully unbuttoned, and his jacket and tie were laid out on the bed, close at hand. 

Somehow it emphasized the fact that she was still naked. She worried her lip, wondering where to begin and where this awkwardness had come from. Finally she settled on the obvious, "So, how do you know those things about me, then?" 

"I asked you if I could borrow your memories. I was very careful and very specific in what I asked for and you were very eager to share." 

"So, you borrowed my memories of what I like during sex?" 

"Yes. To both questions. During sex I borrowed your memories of what you like during sex. Did that make sense?" 

"And that's how you know I like to cuddle..." 

"And also how I know you don't like needy men." 

"Okay. Is there anything else I shared with you that I should know about?" 

"I told you, I asked one very pointed question. Your answer was equally specific." 

She was still uncomfortable with the knowledge that he had rummaged through her mind while she'd been distracted. "What question, exactly, did you ask?" 

"What does Rose Tyler look for in a perfect lover?" 

With a strained cough she continued, "So, all of that last night, you took all of that from my head?" 

"That's right. Are you okay with that?" 

"Yeah. More than okay, actually." She closed the distance between them and straddled his legs. "S'kind of sexy, you know, you doing that to become my perfect lover." Her lips covered his and she felt his arms circle around her, holding her tightly to him, skin to skin. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto the bed. 

She wiggled her bottom teasingly against his lap and waited an instant before realizing that the physical response she'd expected from him wasn't happening. "Doctor?" she said as she looked into eyes that were already filled with apology. 

"I told you, Rose," he replied, his voice quiet and flat. "It isn't like that." 

"It isn't on your elbow or someplace... well, alien, is it?" 

He laughed, but it was only a shadow of his usual. "No. It's where you would expect it to be, but I tried to explain to you that I won't respond to physical stimulation." 

"Oh." She settled fully on his lap. 

He pulled her down so that she was lying on top of him. He was showing her far more of his emotions than ever before, and Rose could see clearly the worry etched on his features. "It's okay," she said. 

"Rose, I - if you --" 

"It's fine. Really. You're still you and that's what matters, yeah? I forgot for a minute is all." 

He stilled her above him and forced her to meet his eyes. "Are you sure?" 

After everything they had shared and all the reassurances she had given him, he still expected her to run away at this, the first indication of his alienness. She kissed him lightly, just a peck. "For." She kissed him again, lingering a bit longer. "Ever." 

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her into a deep kiss. Rose relaxed into him, loving the hardness of his body against her. 

"Now I think we need to go save the universe." 

Rose laughed, but stood and waited for him to stand as well. "I dunno, Doctor, I kind of like this look," she said as she ran her hands inside his shirt. "On second thought," she said, bringing her hands up to the top button of his shirt, "I don't want to share you." She buttoned the top button and moved down the shirt buttoning him up completely, batting his hands away when he tried to do it himself. 

Dressing him was incredibly erotic, she decided, despite the fact that she was covering his nakedness. She had to let him do the tie himself, but she watched as his hands moved the silk around so that she could learn. Then, she held his jacket open for him to slide into. "You look good," she said as she straightened his lapels. 

"I agree, Miss Tyler," he replied, tweaking his tie. "I believe I shall be utilizing your assistance again in the future." 

* * * 

Rose spooned mashed potatoes onto the Doctor's plate and shot him a dirty look. A few minutes later, she joined him at his table. "Two days, we've been here." 

"Blame your boyfriend, he's the one who put us on to this." 

"Mickey's not my boyfriend," she shot back. 

Another dinner lady approached their table. "You are not permitted to leave your station during a sitting." 

The Doctor bantered playfully with Rose as she stood to go back to her position in the serving line. He'd seen enough of human behavior to understand that she was probably expecting him to make some primitive gesture to formalize their changed relationship, but he'd had virtually no time at all to consider what had happened between them. 

Though he didn't require more sleep so soon, he had visited Rose's bed each night since the first, holding her body close as he claimed her over and over again in the dream. When she would finally fall into a sated sleep, he would stay with her until she woke the next morning. Her telepathy showed no signs of strengthening, but skin-to-skin contact increased the efficiency and by this morning his mind had felt the calmest it had been in years. 

His internal time sense provided the amount of time that had passed since they were first intimate - to the millisecond - but he ignored it, choosing instead to measure the more vague three days since Mickey's tip about the unusual occurrences at the school. 

That phone call had torn something inside of him, the excitement in Rose's voice at hearing from her former lover, the ease with which they had conversed, and, perhaps worst of all, the readiness in her acceptance of this mission. Rose was his, had been his since she had first stepped onto the TARDIS, and he had guarded her jealously from the likes of Jack Harkness and worse, but Mickey Smith had a prior claim on her and the first time he had needed her she had come running. 

These were the thoughts that occupied his mind when Mr. Finch entered the teacher's lounge later that afternoon accompanied by an unmistakable familiar face. 

"Excuse me, colleagues, a moment of your time. May I introduce Miss Sarah Jane Smith." 

* * * 

Night had just fallen when they headed back to the school. Rose was in the kitchen when the sound of Mickey's wailing carried throughout the school. Rose ran towards the sound, nearly bumping into the Doctor when she rounded the corner. "Did you hear that?" Then she noticed the woman beside the him. "Who's she?" 

"Rose, Sarah Jane! Sarah Jane, Rose." 

Rose shook hands with the older woman, a horrible premonition on her mind. This Sarah Jane woman seemed entirely too comfortable with her Doctor. Her fears were confirmed by the fake smile she received in return. "Hi. Nice to meet you." And then the woman turned to the Doctor. "You can tell you're getting older, your assistants are getting younger." 

"I'm not his assistant," Rose replied with as much vitriol as she could manage. Her eyes shot to the Doctor, silently pleading with him to declare their relationship now, but he did nothing but scratch his ear uncomfortably. 

Sarah Jane's eyes moved between them. "No? I get you, tiger." 

The Doctor sped off again, leaving them little choice but to follow him. They found Mickey in a classroom, surrounded by a load of vacuum-packed rats. Every word Sarah Jane spoke seemed deliberately phrased to bring out the worse in her and to show the Doctor how young she was. Rose wanted to scream. She wanted desperately to put Sarah Jane in her place by telling her exactly what she and the Doctor had been doing the last few days, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to say the words in front of Mickey. 

Later, outside of a chip shop, she cornered him. "How many of us have there been, traveling with you?" 

"Does it matter?" 

She hated the tremble in her voice. "Yeah, it does, if I'm just the latest in a long line." 

He stopped walking and looked at her. She hated the look of pain in his eyes. "As opposed to what?" 

"You made it sound like I was special, but I obviously got it wrong. 'Only happened once before in over 900 years,' what was that, a bunch of... pillow talk? I've been to the year five billion, right, but this... now this is really seeing the future. You just leave us behind. Is that what you're gonna do to me?" 

His answer was immediate, his voice hard and clipped. "No. Not to you. Rose, we've shared something that I have never done with any of my companions. All of that, that wasn't just a... a line. You have to understand how difficult it is for me to get close to any of you. For things to have gone so far between us, I can't believe you would doubt how special you are." 

"But Sarah Jane... you were close to her once, too, and now... you never even mention her. Why not?" 

"I don't age. I regenerate. But humans decay. You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone you --" He stopped, biting his tongue. 

"What, Doctor? Someone you what?" 

He stared at her intensely. "You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords." 

With a screech, a Krillitane swooped down towards them, but just flew away. 

"Was that a Krillitane?" 

"But it didn't even touch us, it just flew off! What did it do that for?" 

Hidden from Mickey and Sarah Jane by his trench coat, the Doctor's hand slipped into hers and he squeezed hard enough for it to hurt. After the initial scare wore off, Rose realized that despite his words, he had protected her from the Killitane and had comforted her, not Sarah Jane. 

"Well, come along then," Sarah Jane said, and the Doctor's hand fell from hers as he moved a step away. "You can't get back to the TARDIS tonight, may as well come home with me." 

By unspoken arrangement, Rose was stuck in the back of the car with Mickey and the tin dog as Sarah Jane drove them to a flat she'd rented nearby. "It's only got one bedroom, but we'll manage. At least we'll all be able to freshen up tomorrow morning." 

The flat was tiny, designed for only one person, but there was a sofa and an armchair that looked comfortable. 

The Doctor looked around the living room. "You take the sofa, Rose. Mickey, the chair." 

"And what about you?" The words were out before she remembered. 

"I've gotten plenty of sleep in the last few nights. I'll be fine tonight. I could go three or four days, if I needed to." There was nothing in his words that hinted at what they'd been doing, but Rose found herself blushing all the same. 

Mickey was already shuffling around, kicking off his shoes and settling into the armchair. The Doctor glanced at him then back to Rose and his eyes twinkled with amusement. The idea that they were sharing a private joke ended when Sarah Jane came back into the room. 

The Doctor shoved his hands in his trench coat pockets. "All right, then. Everybody get some rest and we'll head back in the morning." He nodded at the sofa and Rose laid down and tried to get comfortable. 

* * * 

The next evening, when everything was said and done and they returned to the TARDIS, Rose had made her peace with Sarah Jane and was surprised when the older woman refused the Doctor's offer to travel with him again. 

"Can I come?" 

Oh, no. 

"No, not with you," Mickey said to Sarah Jane. "I mean... with you." He gestured to the Doctor. "'Cause I'm not the tin dog. And I wanna see what's out there." 

'No,' she mouthed at the Doctor. Not now when things were so new and good between them. 

"Oh, go on, Doctor. Sarah Jane Smith, Mickey Smith. You need a Smith on board!" 

"Okay then, I could do with a laugh." 

Rose rolled her eyes. Mickey's delighted laugh was cut short. "Rose, is that okay?" 

"No, great. Why not?" 

"Well, I'd better go." Sarah Jane wrapped her arm around Rose's shoulder and pulled her aside. 

"What do I do?" Rose glanced over her shoulder at the Doctor. "Do I stay with him?" 

"Yes. Some things are worth getting your heart broken for." She hugged Rose. "Find me... if you need to, one day. Find me." 

The Doctor saw Sarah Jane out of the TARDIS and Mickey was at her side before the doors even closed. "What was that all about?" 

"Nothin'. Just, the last person that traveled with us didn't work out so good." 

"Come on, Rose. It's me!" 

That's what I'm afraid of, Rose thought. She took a step away from him. "I'm gonna grab something to eat."


	5. Chapter 5

Rose gestured over her shoulder at the corridor that led to her bedroom. "I guess I'll just go... to... bed," she said deliberately. It had been three hours since the TARDIS had left Sarah Jane behind and jumped into the vortex. The Doctor seemed content to tinker with something on the console, and Mickey was struggling with what the Doctor had confided to her was a simple Gallifreyan child's toy.

At the Doctor's blank expression, she wondered if that had been a little too subtle. She sidled closer to him. "I said, 'I guess I'll just go to bed,'" she repeated sotto voce. She waited a heartbeat for his reaction. Nothing. So much for subtlety. "You, uh, want to come with me?"

"No, I don't think that's a good idea," he replied, nodding in Mickey's direction.

He'd said he could go three or four days without needing more sleep, but before they'd gone to Deffry Vale School, he'd spent every night in her bed whether he'd been tired or not. Having Mickey on board apparently made a difference. "Oh. No, I guess not." She hesitated, wanting to say more. "Was it Sarah Jane?" she asked finally.

He barely looked up. "Was who Sarah Jane?"

"The one, you know, with the shared dreaming?"

He frowned. "No. Sarah and I were close, she even went through a regeneration with me, like you did, and it's rare to find someone who can accept that part of me, but it never went any further than that."

"Okay." Three or four more days. Could they get rid of Mickey in that time? He'd been less than keen on the whole time and space travel thing last time. "Well, like I said, I'm going to bed. You know where to find me if you need me." She tried to infuse her words with a hint of suggestion and innuendo, but it appeared to not register with him.

She slept poorly, her bed seeming far larger than she remembered, and in the morning she dressed and headed to the galley for breakfast. Mickey was already there, wide-eyed and ready for whatever adventure the Doctor had planned.

"Good morning," he said as she fixed herself a quick breakfast.

"Mornin'."

Mickey stood and grabbed her hand, standing closer than she was comfortable with. "Look, Rose, about last night --"

"Everybody up and ready to go, then?" the Doctor said from the door, his voice a touch too high pitched, a little too cheery. Rose's eyes shot to his, but his expression was unreadable. She moved her hand away from Mickey's and watched the Doctor's eyes follow the movement.

"Yeah," she replied after realizing that the silence had lasted an instant too long. "Just let me finish eating and I'll be ready to go."

"All right. I'll be in the control room when you're ready."

As he turned and walked away Rose tried to not read more into his words than their face value. Because she didn't even want to contemplate what he might be thinking.

* * *

"Are you there? Can you hear me? I need you now, you promised. The clock on the mantel is broken. It is time. Doctor! Doctor!"

His shoulders tense, he stepped from the TARDIS, trying not to think about the two people emerging behind him.

"It's a spaceship! Brilliant, I got a spaceship on my first go!"

"Looks kind of abandoned," Rose said. "Anyone on board?"

"Nah, nothing here. Well! Nothing dangerous. Well! Not that dangerous." The Doctor paused. He'd been so distracted by the scene he'd interrupted in the galley that he'd completely forgotten to even check. This... whatever this was between him and Rose would be so much easier if - he stopped himself. Better to not lament what could not be. "You know what, I'll just have a quick scan... in case there's anything dangerous." He walked over to a control panel in the center of the room and started tapping some buttons.

"So, what's the date?" Rose asked, looking over his shoulder. "How far have we gone?"

"About three thousand years into your future, give or take." The Doctor pulled a switch and the lights turned on, the roof gradually opening into a window which showed a spectacular view of the stars outside. "Fifty-first century. Diagmar Cluster, you're a long way from home, Mickey. Two and a half galaxies." The enthusiasm was faked, but they seemed to take no notice of him.

The only thing he could think about as Mickey moved to a porthole was Adam aboard Satellite Five fainting at his first sight of the planet below. Rose had lost all interest in the pretty boy in that moment and he desperately wanted the same thing to happen now with Mr. Mickey Smith.

He turned away, unwilling to watch as Rose hugged Mickey from behind. "Mickey Smith, meet the universe. See anything you like?"

But no, Rickey the Idiot had to be fascinated with what he saw.

"It's so realistic!"

Fascinated, but still an idiot.

There was a mess of spare parts lying around and he picked through them. "Dear me, had some cowboys in here! Got a ton of repair work going on."

There might actually be something unusual going on here, he realized as he noticed a screen with a diagram of the spaceship on it. Maybe a mystery would be enough to help him get his mind off her. "Now that's odd, look at that. All the warp engines are going... full capacity! There's enough power running through this ship to punch a hole in the universe... and we're not moving. So where's all that power going?"

"Where'd all the crew go?"

The Doctor leaned forward and tweaked some knobs on the control panel. "Good question. No life readings on board."

He never could resist a mystery, and with those words, he became well and truly enmeshed in one. Spinning back and forth through a fireplace into 18th century France was just what he needed, with clockwork men and Reinette Poisson, of all people.

It wasn't until he was stepping back through the second time that he realized what he'd just done. He'd kissed Madame de Pompadour. Really snogged her, too, not just a polite "hello" kiss or a chaste "friend" kiss. Rose would not be pleased. Rose, who had probably done considerably more than snog Rickey last night.

"Rose!" He looked around. "Mickey?" He walked, becoming more peevish with every step. It wasn't so much them wandering off that bothered him, it was them wandering off together. Anything could happen.

"Every time, every time, it's rule one - don't wander off! I tell them, I do, rule one! There could be anything on this ship!" Anything, like him kissing Madame de Pompadour on the other side of a revolving fireplace and Rose being somewhere alone aboard the ship with Rickey the Idiot. Mickey, whom she had left without so much as a backward glance after the encounter with the Nestene Consciousness. And whom she had returned to even after the Doctor had shown her the private landscape of his own dreams, the rose covered world that had become his mental haven sometime after they'd met the Gelth. Didn't she know what that meant?

He turned the corner and was met by a white horse in the middle of the corridor. He blinked and the horse whinnied. Anything, exactly like that. A horse, but no Rose and no Mickey... who had not so long ago been holding her hand. In his galley. After, from what he'd overheard, spending a night together aboard his ship.

"Rose?" Where was she? The plaintive note in his voice bothered him. He sighed.

He crossed a junction of corridors, completely lost. Maybe the shared dreaming had thrown her more than she'd let on. He knew that the appearance of Sarah Jane certainly had. But one constant of his life was that he would outlive any human who traveled with him. Leaving Sarah Jane behind had been inevitable.

The horse was still following him. Leaving behind the last woman who had shared his dreams had not been his choice. Rose had been concerned that he would do the same to her, but he'd reassured her on that count, hadn't he? Had he even reassured himself?

The Doctor stopped to look down a corridor before turning back to his unlikely companion. "Will you stop following me? I'm not your mother!" The horse nosed him, but the Doctor was already moving away, having spotted a set of white, French double doors. He opened them. "So this is where you came from, eh, horsey?"

Versailles again, this time a grassy courtyard, and once again the future Madame de Pompadour. He watched her laugh with a friend as they walked arm in arm speaking about Reinette's ambition to become the king's mistress. She was stunningly beautiful, and a part of him yearned for that, for the uncomplicated kiss they had shared, her a woman and him just a man. Rose would want more from him eventually. Her needs would complicate their relationship more than his acceptance of their shared dreaming ever could. It was in her nature to want an official acknowledgment of what they had shared. It would probably involve telling Jackie, which would probably result in slapping.

The sound of the women's voices faded into the distance as he stepped away from the Versailles garden and back into the ship. He turned down another corridor.

"Blimey, look at this guy. Who does he think he is?" Mickey. He'd found them. At last.

He walked up behind them. "King of France."

Rose looked him up and down. "Oh, here's trouble. What you been up to?"

He looked into the mirror at the man who was primping on the other side. "Oh, this and that. Became the imaginary friend of a future French aristocrat... picked a fight with a clockwork man..." The horse whinnied from around the corner. "Oh, and I met a horse."

"What's a horse doing on a spaceship?"

Idiot. What did she see in him? "Mickey, what's pre-Revolutionary France doing on a spaceship? Get a little perspective."

And then, in no time at all, he was dashing through the window, back into 18th century France, freezing a clockwork man with a fire extinguisher and sending Rose - Rose - back into the spaceship after the droid when it defrosted itself. The last bit because he couldn't let Rose see him do what he had to do next.

He closed the window behind them and turned back to Reinette. "Reinette, you're going to have to trust me. I need to find out what they're looking for, there's only one way I can do that. Won't hurt a bit."

Reinette gave her assent, and he placed his fingers on her temples and closed his eyes.

"Fireplace man... you are inside my mind."

He talked. It was, after all, what he did best. Typically it calmed the people he was speaking to and gave them confidence that he was competent and knowledgeable about what was happening. But this woman flummoxed him - flummoxed? Did he even like that word? - she was flirting with him using the landscape of her own memories.

And he liked it. And oh, my, he thought as a curl of lust shot through his body. It should have been impossible without a bond, a true and proper bond, not this half incomplete connection. He'd been surprised at Rose's ability to affect him that way, but Reinette did not even have the advantage of the dream state to draw upon.

"Oh, such a lonely childhood."

"It'll pass. Stay with me."

"Oh, Doctor. So lonely. So very, very alone."

"What do you mean, alone? You've never been alone in your life --" His eyes snapped open. "When did you start calling me 'Doctor'?"

"Such a lonely little boy. Lonely then and lonelier now." She opened her eyes. "How can you bear it?"

He took his hands off of her and stepped away. "How did you do that?" It was like being doused in cold water, the effect on his libido was instantaneous.

"A door, once opened, can be stepped through in either direction."

He could only stare at her. What she had done was technically impossible, but that apparently hadn't stopped her.

"Oh, Doctor." She took a step closer to him, the silk of her skirts and the weight of her petticoats brushing against his legs. "My lonely Doctor. Dance with me."

"I can't." He was reminded of another conversation, from before when he was a different man, of dancing with Rose and dancing. They'd danced, he and Rose, several times now, and he'd thought - hoped - that she would accept a place with him in the rose dream for the duration of her forever. But that was before Sarah Jane and before Mickey.

Reinette was adamant. "Dance with me."

"This is the night you dance with the King."

"Then first, I shall make him jealous."

"I can't," he repeated. He couldn't because he wanted to. History be damned, he wanted to feel this woman, with her blatant disregard for the rules of telepathy, in his arms. He'd lost Rose after only just finding her, how easy would it be to drown his sorrows in this beautiful, willing woman?

"Doctor," she said sadly. "Doctor who? It's more than just a secret, isn't it?"

"What did you see?"

"That there comes a time, Time Lord, when every lonely little boy must learn how to dance." She smiled, took his hand, and he allowed her to lead him away.

A few steps before they would have entered the ballroom he was overwhelmed by the feeling of Rose awaking into terror. He couldn't explain it, didn't want to spend precious time analyzing how she could possibly have projected her feelings into his mind. Because in that moment, he knew that no matter what, he would always come running if Rose needed him. His hand slipped from Reinette's without a second thought as he hurried back to the door that would lead him to the 51st century.

It had to be the TARDIS, he realized, as he raced through the corridors of the derelict ship. Whatever she had done to facilitate the dreaming state between him and Rose had made him more susceptible to Rose's emotions. His feet moved on their own, following the strength of her fear. He skidded to a halt -- there.

He could hear Mickey saying that he'd been gone for hours. Hours? It couldn't have been more than 30 minutes. And he could hear her. She was talking, his brave girl, despite her fear. "Ever heard of the Daleks? Remember them? They had a name for our friend."

That was a cue, if he'd ever heard one. He loosened his tie and dragged it to the top of his head, plucked a pair of sunglasses out of a pocket and put them on. Then he picked up a handy cup of anti-oil and waited.

"They had myths about him, and a name. They called him the..."

With one hand, he knocked over a random bucket and then began to sing. "I could've danced all night, I could've danced all night."

"They called him the -- they called him the -- the --"

He staggered into the room, dancing with an imaginary partner. "And still have begged for moooore. I could've spread my wings and done a thou-- have you met the French? My... GOD, they know how to party."

Rose and Mickey were strapped down on what looked like vertical operating tables. The room was filled with the clockwork men. But as he'd suspected, they apparently did not consider him a threat in his 'inebriated' state. "Oh, look at what the cat dragged in. The Oncoming Storm."

She didn't know that she, not a cat, had dragged him here. She who had promised him forever then turned back to Mr. Mickey at the first opportunity. The insult slipped out of him before he could censor it. "Oh, you sound just like your mother."

And there she was, getting cross with him, when he was here to save her life! "What've you been doing? Where've you been?"

Well, let her stew. He was not going to turn this into a domestic with Mr. Mickey right there and clockwork droids pointing sharp things at his Rose. "Well... among other things, I think just invented the banana daiquiri a few centuries early." Wait. His Rose?

Rose laid back on the table, clearly exasperated with him. He crossed the room and leaned over her. "Do you know, they'd never even seen a banana before! Always take a banana to a party, Rose. Bananas are GOOD."

And that was enough of that. He let his gob do what it did best and ended up pouring the anti-oil into the head of the droid pointing a very sharp-looking tool at Rose.

"Multigrain anti-oil. If it moves, it doesn't," he said as the droid ground to a halt.

The rest of the droids began to advance, but he quickly deactivated them using a nearby lever. Within seconds he'd released Rose and Mickey then hurried over to a nearby computer terminal. "Time we got the rest of the ship turned off."

But there was still one droid in 18th century France holding the connection open and before he could do anything about it, the droid closest to him expelled the anti-oil all over his trainer. And, apparently, the droid in the field had discovered the time window where Reinette was "complete," because the rest of them all teleported out of the room.

"What's happening?"

"One of them must've found the right time window, and now it's time to send in the troops. And this time they're bringing back her head. Rose, find a window, any window and tell Reinette what to expect. Tell her I'm here, that I'm working on it and that I'll be there when she needs me."

"Why can't you go?"

"Because..." The words died in his throat as he looked at her, this human whom he feared held his hearts. "Because I need to be here. I need to find the window they went through. Don't worry about Reinette. She's bright, Rose. She'll understand."

Still Rose hesitated.

"Go."

He worked frantically after Rose left, finally finding the window both he and the droids had been searching for. "Mickey, bring her back."

Mickey rushed off, leaving him to search for a way through the window.

"You found it, then?" Rose asked as she hurried back into the room a few minutes later.

"They knew I was coming. They blocked it off."

On the other side of the window, Versailles was in chaos.

"I don't get it. How come they got in there?"

"They teleported - you saw them. As long as the ship and the ballroom are linked, their short-range teleports will do the trick."

"Well, we'll go in the TARDIS!"

"We can't use the TARDIS, we're part of events now."

Mickey turned to him. "Well, can't we just smash through it?"

"Hyperplex this side," he pointed with the sonic screwdriver, "plate glass the other. We need a truck."

"We don't have a truck."

"I know we don't have a truck!" he shouted.

Rose looked at him, obviously surprised at his loss of temper. "Well, we've gotta try something!"

"No, smash the glass, smash the time window, there'd be no way back."

Rose only stared at him.

In the ballroom on the other side of the time window, Reinette was talking, stalling to give him enough time to get to her, if only he could get the window open.

That's when he admitted to himself that he'd already tried everything. He glanced at Rose, inching closer to the window overlooking the ballroom, her hand unconsciously seeking the comfort of Mickey's. Emergency programme one was still active. It would take them home, together. She could have a normal, fantastic life with Rickey the Idiot by her side.

At a whistle, Arthur came into the room, and before he could give a second thought to the obvious lunacy of what he was about to do, the Doctor was on the horse's back, sailing through the hyperplex into Versailles.

Quick flirtation, quick show of wit, a bit of 'this would go better for you if you listened to reason'. And then upon discovering that their link to the ship was broken, the droids simply gave up.

An hour later he was standing at a window, holding a glass of wine he'd neither asked for nor wanted and looking up at the stars. He could only imagine at this point how much time had passed on board that ship in the 51st century, but he believed in his hearts that Rose and Mickey had already found their way back to their home. He had to believe that or the next thousand years or so were going to be unbearable.

Reinette came up behind him. "You know all their names, don't you? I saw that in your mind. The name of every star."

"What's in a name?" A Rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Oh, he'd never taken Rose to meet Shakespeare. That was one adventure she would have enjoyed. "Names are just titles. Titles don't tell you anything."

They bantered back and forth, he and Madame de Pompadour, but his hearts weren't in it. He made her laugh and he sipped at his wine reflexively, sorely tempted to shut off the part of him that metabolized it fast enough to prevent him from becoming intoxicated. He listened to her talk of the slow path and found his thoughts again drifting to Rose and Mickey, on the slow path together.

Reinette took his hand with some vague comment about him going away and lead him to her bedroom. "It's not a copy," she said from the door and he wondered what she was talking about, his hearts thudding in his chest. "It's the original. I had it moved here and was exact in every detail." It took another second or two for him to see past the enormous bed that dominated the middle of the room.

Of all the windows back to the ship, the fireplace from her old bedroom in Paris had survived, and with a whir of his sonic screwdriver he had it back in working order. It wasn't until he was swinging back into the 51st century that he realized what showing it to him had meant to Reinette.

But he couldn't take her with him, despite an irrational desire to do just that. He crouched down to peer through the fireplace and gave her something even better than a trip with him, hope. Of course, if Mickey and Rose had already left in the TARDIS, hope might be all he could ever give her.

He hurried down a quick flight of stairs, nearly crying out at the sight of Rose standing there in the glow of the TARDIS lights. His arms were around her before she could even mount a protest and he was struck by a wave of intense love and longing from her as her arms wrapped around him as well. Oh, his old girl liked this pink and yellow human indeed.

"How long did you wait?"

"Five and a half hours!" she laughed giddily.

He released her. "Right, always wait five and a half hours." He hustled them into the TARDIS and turned back to the fireplace, only one more thing to do. He steeled himself as he flipped the switch to take him back to France. Reinette would understand. She would have to.

But the room was dark, and there was only Louis, looking far older than the Doctor had ever seen him. The connection, of course, he'd lined it up improperly. Or, perhaps now that the majority of the connections had been severed time no longer ran at the same speed on both sides. He'd hoped to say goodbye to Reinette at least, but it was too late for that, he thought as he slipped the letter Louis had given him into his pocket.

He could only stay minutes. If the time was off so drastically, he didn't dare be away from Rose and the TARDIS long.

* * *

"Are you all right?"

He looked up from the console controls and met her eyes, but didn't give her an answer. He went back to fiddling with the controls.

After a minute Mickey tugged on her arm. "Come on, Rose. It's time you showed me around the rest of this place."

Rose hesitated. The Doctor had never said that he loved her, had, in fact, avoided that specific word at every opportunity. And now, less than a week after the first time she had awoken naked in his arms, he mourned the death of another woman as strongly as if they, too, had been lovers. The thought left her distinctly uncomfortable. How long had he really been trapped in France? And what had happened there?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "normal speech"  
>  _*telepathy*_

Rose heard the shoes on the decking outside of her room. A part of her hadn't wanted him to come to her tonight, but the rest of her was relieved that he had. She opened the door before he could knock, taking the measure of him before either of them could speak. He still looked defeated, but now he also looked tired. How long had it been since he'd slept? Could it have only been two or three days? 

"Rose." There was a hint of an apology in his voice that she was prepared to accept until he tried to surreptitiously look around her into the room. 

She leaned against the door frame and pulled the door to her, effectively halving his line of sight into her bedroom. "Can I help you?" 

He came up short at the venom in her voice. "Am I interrupting something?" 

"Maybe." 

"Oh." He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed at the nape of his neck nervously. "I'll just... I'll just leave you to it then." 

They both heard Mickey long before they saw him. The Doctor's head shot up in surprise as Mickey turned the corner, tunelessly singing into a half-eaten banana he was using as a microphone. The lyrics faded into nothingness, but he barely batted an eye at the sight of the Doctor standing at her bedroom door. He took another bite of the banana and walked past them, not even slowing. "Doctor, Rose. 'Night." 

They stood in silence until they heard Mickey's door close behind him a minute later. 

"Ah," the Doctor said. 

Finally, Rose let go of the bedroom door and allowed it to swing open on its own to reveal her otherwise unoccupied room. "Yeah," she said bitterly. 

"I thought -- " 

"You thought - is that what last night was about? I'm not like you, Doctor, I don't discard old lovers and friends and never mention their names again, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna jump into bed with Mickey the first chance I get. Last night, asking you to come to bed, I thought you knew what I meant. Or at least that it meant I wasn't gonna be making the same offer to him." 

He looked up and down the corridor as though expecting Mickey to materialize again. "Can I come in?" 

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to sod off, but she moved aside to allow him into the room. 

The Doctor closed the door behind him then turned back to her, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing happened between you and Mickey?" 

"Nothing. It's been over between me and Mick for a long time. In case you've forgotten, I didn't even want him to come along. I said no. You let yourself be convinced." 

"This morning, in the galley?" 

"Dunno. I'd just gotten there myself." She scanned her memories for what could possibly have bothered him about breakfast that morning. "My God, that's what this is all about, his 'about last night'?" 

"He was holding your hand, Rose." 

"Yeah, 'cause I brushed him off when he came knocking on my door last night, which you would have known if you'd come to bed with me when I asked. And I was just about to do it again when you walked in. So, what, you saw something you didn't like, you didn't bother to ask me about it, and then you go throw yourself at another woman?" 

"I didn't throw myself at Reinette, Rose, she kissed me." 

She inhaled sharply. She'd suspected, but here he was admitting it. "Were you... with her?" she asked, not certain she wanted to know the answer. 

"No." 

There was something he wasn't telling her. "But?" 

"I was tempted." 

"You were tempted. Just how tempted were you?" The guilt on his face was enough to answer her question. "So that's how it's gonna be, then? I can't even hold my ex-boyfriend's hand, but you can snog a famous historical mistress and I'm just supposed to be okay with that?" 

"I told you, she kissed me." 

"But you didn't try to stop her." 

"No, I didn't. Maybe I should have. I cared about Reinette, Rose, and I'll not apologize for that. I do what I do because I care, and before the war I got into more trouble with the Time Lord Council specifically for that reason. We're not supposed to care but it's never stopped me." 

"You can't expect me to believe it was the same sort of compassion that you showed Cassandra or Novice Hame or any of the others." She took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet. "What about us, Doctor?" she asked quietly. "What are we?" She'd tried not to pressure him about their relationship. He'd said on multiple occasions - admittedly, all of them before he'd regenerated - that he didn't do domestic. But what was this conversation if not domestic? 

"I didn't love her." 

And there was that word, the one he usually so carefully avoided using. Rose waited, holding her breath for another uncharacteristic admission from him. It didn't come. Typical. He'd not answered her question. 

"Reinette was --" He stopped, and she got the impression he was picking a different word, rearranging what he'd been about to say. "-- different. Very few humans have the capacity for telepathy, but she was actually able to enter my mind. I haven't had another's thoughts there since the Time War ended. It's seductive in ways you can't imagine." 

"Is that why you got caught up in the shared dreaming with me? Because your mind was looking for that kind of a connection?" 

His face blossomed into a smile and Rose knew she'd said the right thing. "I won't pretend that wasn't at least part of the reason. I need it, Rose, crave it, the same way humans crave physical contact. But I stayed because I wanted to. I stayed because of you." 

"You said I had to be at least a little telepathic for the shared dreaming to work." 

"That's right." 

"Could we talk like that? Telepathically?" 

But he was already shaking his head. "No. It takes more than the tiny bit of residual telepathy that you've exhibited. The TARDIS had to bolster your abilities considerably to make the connection work. There's only one way that you and I could --" 

* * * 

He realized his error before Rose had even latched on to the possibility. He'd been thinking too much about her fledgling telepathy since the moment he'd known she was in danger aboard the derelict ship. They'd been intimate several nights in a row and never once during any of those times had her telepathy shown the slightest indication that it was strengthening. Then, when she'd needed him, suddenly he'd been able to feel her from what was technically 3,000 years away. 

"What? How?" 

"We talked about it once. It's a telepathic bond similar to the shared dreaming. But that kind of bond is permanent. No matter what happens between you and me, even if we're on opposite ends of the universe, we'll still be able to communicate, and there's nothing I can do to take it back. I will always be in your mind and you will always be in mine. There is no... divorce." 

His hearts fluttered unnaturally when she made no attempt to step away from him either physically or metaphorically. His respiratory bypass kicked in an instant later when she actually stepped closer to him. He'd kissed Reinette, had even briefly contemplated dancing with her, but there had never in more than 900 years been a woman who made him feel like Rose Tyler did. 

"So, it's like getting married?" Suddenly, she wouldn't meet his eyes, would hardly look above the level of his tie. 

He'd been half joking when he told her that the invitation to join her in her dreams was a marriage proposal. The implications of this conversation were far more than that. He'd known she would want a declaration of their changed status, if this didn't fulfill that need for her, he didn't know what would. "It's a possible first step in a Time Lord marriage, yes." 

"Go on," she breathed, her hot breath skittering across his neck. 

Rassilon, seven hours ago he'd been prepared to send her off with Mr. Mickey, convinced that they had already resumed their sexual relationship and would be happy together. Now he was here, having this conversation with her and not feeling the least bit guilty that he'd accidentally let the possibility slip from his lips. 

But first. "In the early 21st century, the average human marriage lasted 7.8 years. Worldwide, 27.4733 percent of marriages ended in divorce. 'Till death us do part' doesn't mean the same thing to humans as it does to Time Lords. If --" Rassilon help him, he actually got choked up. "-- if you leave me a bond will still be there, connecting us." 

"The first step in a Time Lord marriage." She drew a pattern with her finger on his lapel, directly above his left heart. "But not actually married?" 

She'd missed the point, missed the permanence he was trying to make her see. Humans from her time didn't believe in that kind of commitment. In some countries during the early 21st century, the divorce rate was as high as 59 per cent. And that was between two humans, they would have the added complication of being cross-species. 

"If a marriage is desired, there are a few more steps that need to be taken after the bonding to make it one." 

"Do it." 

"Rose, now --" 

"You need it, right?" 

It had been just over two years since the destruction of Gallifrey, and with the exception of Rose's dreaming and Reinette's unexpected foray into his mind, he had been alone with his thoughts for that entire time. So far he'd coped much better than he could have ever predicted, but he was afraid that eventually the emptiness would catch up to him. Still, it was Rose and this was not a decision he could make for her; he had to tell her everything. "There's no way to tell how a human will react to the bond, Rose. The effect on your mind could be devastating." 

"Rubbish. Even you have to admit that you're more important than me. If it gives you comfort, even for just a little while..." 

He cupped her cheek, but she fought him when he tried to make her look him in the eyes. He leaned forward instead, and touched his cheek to hers. "It would be no comfort to me if you descended into madness or worse because of something I'd done recklessly." 

She barked a laugh. "You, do something reckless? You've probably already calculated the exact probability of success and weighed the risks. So, what is it, Doctor, an 85 per cent chance I'll survive the procedure intact versus an 85 per cent chance you'll go mad without it?" 

Seventy and 90. And with each year that passed, the 90 crept higher. But 70 per cent was too high a number to blunder forward with when it was Rose's life, Rose's sanity, that he was playing with. "The numbers are not nearly that favorable." 

"For who?" 

He wanted to brush her off, kiss her senseless, tell her she was mad for even considering it, and that he was mad for even mentioning it. Yet at the same time, he wanted to touch his fingers to her temples and forge a life bond with the one woman who had seen him at his worst and who still accepted him, who had done so much for him already that he could never hope to repay her. 

"For who, Doctor?" she said again. "What are the odds?" 

"There's a 70 per cent chance it will be successful." 

"Seventy. And you?" 

"Rose --" 

"And you, Doctor?" 

"It varies." 

"Doctor." 

"Ninety per cent." 

He heard her repeat the number under her breath. "Seventy is an acceptable risk." 

"Rose, it's not. I would hesitate even if your number was 90." 

"The world needs you, Doctor, far more than it needs Rose Tyler." 

"The Doctor needs Rose Tyler. I need you, and I need you to be whole." 

She released a tiny sigh and then, finally, her face came up, her eyes locking on to his. They were gold, not just her normal hazel, but shining gold. Bad Wolf. When she spoke, her voice was ethereal, doubled upon itself, _"Reevaluate the odds, Doctor."_

"Rose, what --" 

_"Reevaluate Rose Tyler's odds of survival if you complete a Gallifreyan life bond between you."_

He didn't have to do the math, the number shone from her as brightly as her eyes. "One hundred per cent," he admitted. 

_"Complete the bond, Doctor. You are far too precious to the universe to do otherwise."_

"I'll speak to Rose, now, not you. You cannot make this decision for her." 

_"I am Rose Tyler. I am Bad Wolf. We are the same. You will complete the bond."_

"No, you are not Rose Tyler, and I will not have you dictate my actions. Let me talk to Rose." 

He watched the shining light dissipate as Rose returned to him. She stumbled slightly and he caught her, then dragged her over to her bed. "Was that it?" she asked, confused, as he sat beside her. "Did it work? I can't hear you." 

"No, Rose, that wasn't it." He checked again, but the same number came back to him, 100 per cent. "Rose, this has to be something you want. I can't make this decision for you. If there's even the slightest hesitation on your part --" 

"Do it, Doctor. I don't know how many times I have to tell you. If this is something that I can do to keep you safe, I'll do it. Seventy per cent is really good odds, loads of people don't get odds that good." 

Seventy per cent. She didn't know, but she was still willing to risk everything that she was for him. He responded with a kiss, the words he longed to say on the tip of his tongue. "I'll put us both in the dreaming state. It should be easier if our minds are already touching. Once it's done, I'll bring you out slowly." 

"Okay." 

He helped her lay down and then touched her temples with his fingers. They arrived in the rose dream almost simultaneously. 

"I haven't needed proper mental walls for a long time, so it will take just a minute to shore them up. It's something I can teach you to do after the bond is complete, but between now and then, I don't want to bombard you with my thoughts unnecessarily. If there's anything you don't want me to see, just imagine it behind a closed door. You don't even have to lock it, I won't go rummaging." He put the last few pieces in place and then turned back to her. "What I'm about to do is just a visual for your benefit. You won't notice anything different at first." He put his hands near the side of her head. "Rose, I --" 

Rose met his eyes, then deliberately closed hers against the words he was struggling to say. "Don't think this means I've forgiven you for Madame de Pompadour." 

"You didn't have anything to worry about from her, Rose Tyler. She could never compare to you." 

Rose nodded. "Doctor, if something happens --" 

He shushed her gently, placing his fingers on her temples. "You'll feel me pressing against your mind." He reached out to her with his mind, felt her tense slightly at the contact. "Try to relax." 

"I trust you," she said. And with those words he felt her mind begin to slowly flower open, but even that small progress was far more than what should have been possible. He pushed his fears about the Wolf behind a door, and deadlock sealed it for good measure. 

* * * 

Rose felt the instant the bond snapped gently into place. It was a tangible thing in her mind and she probed at it. Her eyes flew open at the Doctor's responding groan. "That's not possible." His hands had not moved from her temples and their faces were only centimetres apart. "Rose," he said, but this time she heard all of the thoughts and feelings that went on in his mind when he thought about her. 

"My Doctor," she replied. _*I love you, too.*_ She infused the words with every bit of the love and pride she felt for him. 

The response through the bond was instantaneous, hot and needy, but he pulled it back almost as quickly. 

_*Yes,*_ she agreed, chasing him back along the bond with the thought. 

None of the communication she was getting from him was verbal and it all seemed to hit her at once. There was a rush of embarrassment and an apology and then something that it took her a minute to understand. 

Rose broke out of the dream, shuddering as though she'd been doused with cold water when the connection dissolved. "WHAT?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "normal speech"  
>  _*telepathy*_

  
  
"You mean, we still haven't actually... I thought you were just getting dressed again... after, I mean."  
  
Through the newly-formed bond, he sent her his memories of the two of them entwined.  _*But we have, Rose Tyler_ ,* he told her.  
  
"But not for real," she insisted, "not outside of the dream."  
  
He switched to speaking. "Physical contact between Time Lords was forbidden. Even after Pythia's curse was lifted, Rassilon decreed that children conceived and birthed naturally were inferior to those that were Loomed. Since the only reason for Time Lords to mate would be to conceive children, the practice had already long since stopped."  
  
"We could, though, you said we were compatible."  
  
"Yes, we could, but as I mentioned, there are several physical differences, not the least of which is my lack of erogenous zones. It wouldn't be remotely what we share in the dreaming state."  
  
She opened her mouth to refute his argument, but he quieted her with a stare. "I recognize that look in your eyes, Rose. The other reason is something you must give considerable more thought to. When I said compatible you took that to mean physically. I meant reproductively, genetically. The only reason a Time Lord would mate is to conceive a child," he repeated, enunciating clearly.  
  
He wanted to say more, but Rose's mouth had formed a perfect O as he'd spoken and his meaning became clear. "So you mean, if we... then I'd... and we'd..." She took a deep breath. "What about protection, you know, birth control?"  
  
"I can't guarantee the effectiveness of any known form of contraception. And I doubt you would appreciate the consequences of a trial and error test."  
  
"But some couples try for years to have children --"  
  
"Yes, Rose, human couples. It won't be like that for us. There would be no uncertainty, no chance of failure."  
  
"Oh."  
  
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close to him as possible, pillowing her head on his shoulder. She was unknowingly projecting every one of her emotions to him through the bond and they hit him one after the other, non-stop. It was how he knew she was crying even before she sniffled. "I thought you understood," he said. "About the dreaming."  
  
This was not how he'd expected to spend the first few minutes after becoming bonded, comforting his bond mate as she came to terms with the facts of their relationship. He sent her soothing caresses over the bond as he rubbed her back with large, gentle circles. "It's my fault," he said after a few minutes, "for not explaining it better."  
  
"No." He could feel her calming already. "It's my fault. I think I wanted to misunderstand."  
  
"Rose..."  
  
She looked up at him. "We're fine, Doctor. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Did you just..." he gestured at his head. Bad Wolf had done this, but he hadn't yet explored the extent to which her mind had been changed in order to make it possible. For the first time he wondered if she'd been made a stronger telepath than him.  
  
"No," she grinned. "It was written all over your face."  
  
"Oh. Good. That's good."  
  
She laughed and he felt it wash over him through the bond, pushing away the last of her earlier emotional storm.   
  
"There, that's better." He relaxed a bit in her arms.  _*Rose.*_  
  
"Yes, Doctor?"  
  
He tsked at her softly through the bond.  _*Rose.*_  
  
 _*Yes, Doctor? I'm here.*_  
  
He smiled at the slightly exasperated tone to her mental 'voice'. He'd expected to be able to access her emotions in the beginning, maybe even catch the occasional faltering word, but nothing like the full, confident sentences he'd just gotten from her.  _*Have I mentioned yet today how brilliant you are?*_  
  
Her brow furrowed slightly.  _*Say my name again.*_  
  
 _*Rose.*_  
  
 _*Go on.*_  
  
 _*Rose Tyler.*_  
  
She laughed again and he felt some dark portion of his heart lighten.  _*You, Doctor, have an accent.*_  
  
 _*What?*_  
  
 _*You do. 'Rhose Tylaer',*_  she mimicked.  _*'Haeve I maentioned yaet' - you have an accent.*_  
  
 _*Oh. I guess I never really noticed. English is not exactly my first language, you know.*_  
  
 _*Then how come you don't sound like that when you're talking?*_  
  
 _*Because I don't speak English. You hear English because of the TARDIS' translation circuits.*_  
  
 _*What do you speak?*_  
  
 _*A little of this, a little of that. Depends which language has a more efficient way of saying something.*_  
  
 _*But not your native language?*_  
  
 _*No. The TARDIS doesn't translate Gallifreyan.*_  
  
 _*Okay.*_  He felt her deliberate decision to move away from the subject of his home planet.  _*But why aren't you speaking one of those other languages in my mind right now?*_  
  
 _*Um, I suppose I could, if I wanted to. Never really thought about not speaking English to you, actually. The translation circuits should still work, since it's the mind that decodes the language anyway.*_  
  
 _*Your accent just disappeared.*_  
  
 _*Mhmm. Slipped into nDanggo. Translation circuits kicked in, so you hear the Queen's English.*_  
  
Rose yawned then offered him an embarrassed smile.  _*Sorry. I'm getting so sleepy.*_  
  
 _*It's okay. I'm surprised you held out this long. Your mind isn't used to this kind of exercise.*_  
  
She snuggled closer to him.  _*Talk to me.*_  
  
 _*About what?*_  
  
 _*Anything.*_  
  
 _*Anything?*_  He took a metaphoric deep breath, steeling himself before allowing the words to pour out.  _"_ Some 250 million light years away from Earth, in a binary star system within the constellation of Kasterborous was the Shining World of the Seven Systems: Gallifrey..."He felt a tiny rush of surprise from her, but it was not enough to keep her awake and she was soon lulled into a deep sleep by the sound of his voice.  
  
He talked for over an hour, baring his soul to her sleeping form in a way he'd never done before with anyone. In the end he ran out of words, finding himself casting around for something else to say. It was a rare thing for him, speechlessness, but as he looked down at the woman slumbering contentedly in his arms, he found he didn't mind the silence.  
  
Her dreams were tickling the edge of his awareness, tempting him to slip into them, but he resisted in deference to the newness of her increased telepathic abilities. She needed her rest at this point far more than he needed the increased connection. There would be plenty of time for that later, so he allowed himself to sleep as well, just a few hours, enough to recharge his batteries for the next several days.  
  
Rose was still clinging to him when he woke, her body pressed tightly against his, her arm possessively firm across his waist. He'd missed this, he realized as he waited for her to wake. It had only been two days that he'd been away from her bed, but he had missed the intimacy of sharing this space with her, of feeling her body relaxed and trusting in his arms. And now, he had the added comfort of having her thoughts mingling with his.  
  
He probed gently at the bond from his side and Rose moaned in her sleep. Tracing along it to Rose's mind he got his first opportunity to look at what Bad Wolf had done to her. Surprisingly few changes had been made, enough to allow the bond to be completed successfully, but nothing that would give her wider telepathic abilities. She would be able to communicate with him, but would not register as telepathic to anyone else probing her.   
  
His searching was having the unintentional side effect of waking her. He could feel the steady increase of her awareness as it rubbed against his. Finally Rose's eyes fluttered open. "Good morning."  
  
 _*Good morning.*_  
  
She groaned, the sound reaching inside of him and taking hold. "Rose?"  
  
 _*Yes.*_  She rolled her hips against him, making her arousal quite clear over the bond and by the motion of her hands on his body.  
  
The Doctor made an inarticulate noise as he rolled her beneath him which would probably have embarrassed him if he had been thinking clearly.   
  
"Rose," he said again kissing the side of her neck, alternating nipping and laving at the spot right where her neck met her shoulder.   
  
Her body surged against him in response. "Ooh."   
  
His hand skimmed down her side to flirt with the waistband of her knickers. "Want you," he growled.   
  
"Doctor?"  
  
The sound of her voice, slightly uncertain but thick with lust, penetrated his mind. In the instant of clarity it gave him, he clamped down on the bond, muting it against what she was doing to him.  
  
* * *  
  
His shoulders slumped slightly, then, with deliberate motions he took his hand away from her knickers, removed his lips from her neck and eased himself off of her. "What did you do?" she was able to ask finally. "I can't feel you anymore."  
  
"I had to turn it off, Rose. I'm going to have to keep it off until I can teach you how to control yourself."  
  
"Did I do something wrong?"  
  
He laughed, embarrassed. "No, you were doing everything right."  
  
"Then --"  
  
"To arouse me. Properly. Physically."  
  
Rose's mouth snapped closed. "Oh," she squeaked.  
  
"But I can't, not without you, not without the bond, which is why I had to turn it off." He settled back into the bed beside her and touched his fingers to her temples. "Dream with me, Rose."  
  
He was on her the instant they both appeared in the rose dream, his hands and mouth urgent as his body moved against hers. "I need you, Rose." His voice was gravelly. It was the first time his arousal had moved independently of hers. It was so much  _more_  than what they'd experienced together so far and Rose felt like she was being pulled along in his wake instead of moving with him.  
  
But she gladly met him as best she could, crying out when he slid inside of her with little pretense. Even nearly insensible with desire, he stilled to give her a moment to adjust to his forceful intrusion. He waited until she gave him a nod before moving again.   
  
"Rose," he groaned a short while later.  
  
"I know. It's okay."  
  
His brow furrowed a few strokes later when he came hard inside of her, gasping and sobbing her name. Rose held him as his shoulders shuddered in the aftermath of his release.   
  
"You didn't finish," he said after a few minutes. It wasn't a question.  
  
She shook her head. "It's okay," she repeated.  
  
"No, it's not." He began to move again and Rose realized he'd never softened.  
  
Much later she lay replete in his arms. "I don't understand," she said as her breathing slowly returned to normal. She could feel soreness in the muscles of her thighs and between them in her core, knew from experience that the same delicious ache would follow her once she left the dream. It was why she'd never thought to question that their sexual relationship was physical.  
  
He responded without asking her to clarify. "Your mind is an amazing organ, Rose. It has the power to convince you of things that never happened. As far as your body is concerned, we've had sex. Really, really great sex," she couldn't see his face from where her head lay on his shoulder, but she could hear in his voice the self-satisfied smirk he wore. "Your body expects to feel certain things after that, so your mind makes it happen."  
  
"I thought you said you'd turned off the bond. How did you know what I meant when I said I didn't understand?"  
  
"Well, I suppose 'turned off' are strong words for what I did. 'Muted' would explain it better. I'll never be able to properly turn it off." He lightly tapped the side of her head. "You're in my head, Rose Tyler, forever."  
  
"We'll have to tell Mickey. About us I mean, if not the bond specifically. It's not like he won't have figured it out after last night, but I owe him that at least."   
  
But she never seemed to find the words and a few days later, Mickey Smith made the choice to stay behind in another universe to fight Cybermen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one of Vol. III - I'm Yours will post next week.


End file.
